


Soft Snow

by Shinatobe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, but just kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinatobe/pseuds/Shinatobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monastery was huge, impressive, and empty</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Snow

**Author's Note:**

> literally 70% of the genyatta tag is first meeting but i'm sorry i feel a lot about this topic so here we are!!! my first overwatch fic

It had been seven days since he'd last stopped moving. Seven days of trudging through Asian wilderness and winter, the snow piling around his knees every time he touched the earth. He had no destination in mind, only the hopes that his artificial joints would give in and collapse beneath him, free him from the ache that felt more like a burn in every nerve, the loneliness that had only become more apparent as winter padded his footsteps and left everything quiet. Even his excellent hearing could only catch the soft crunch of his own feet, though that was growing fainter with each step, weariness pulling each limb like a heavy chain. Even a cyborg as himself was not meant to travel like this, without pause or rest. But the burn in flesh that wasn't his any longer kept his course, pushed with every ounce he had as day turned to night yet again. His throat felt raw in the cold but he knew it couldn't be, since only a human could feel such a thing. Anything he felt was but a memory of what he used to be, even the darkness that swam over his vision more and more frequently with every step.

He hadn't noticed the incline till he reached the top of the hill, blurred vision barely registering the lights in the distance. But he was only allowed a short glance before the darkness encompassed his sight entirely.

\---

Sound was what first came back to him. Or rather, the lack of it. 

A nearly stifling silence around him, barely held at bay by the distant howls of the wind. His sensors alerted him that he was no longer in the snow, his surroundings significantly warmer and dryer than before. He was indoors, somewhere, laid flat on stone floor covered in something thin and hardly comfortable.

He opened his eyes slowly, natural instinct telling him to keep silent and play dead. Surely someone had brought him in out of pity and left him to decompose, or to be taken apart. He'd seen so many omnics stripped of everything but their barest joints, unable to support their own weight after scrappers had come across them. In those days he'd only looked on with vague discomfort, but his own parts now were no different, and certainly valuable to the scum who did such things.

Looking about, no movement of his head, there were no such scrappers though. Only vast high ceilings draped in red and gold, clusters of candles on the stone floor illuminating the room in a soft orange light. To his left, he could see out into the darkness, snow blowing past the windows and shining briefly in the dim light. To his right, an omnic, thinner than most he'd seen with its head tilted down in silent meditation. The lights on its forehead were dimmed, so it was likely not aware he had woken. Perhaps it meant to steal parts from him to cover itself, judging by the almost brittle looking limbs and exposed torso it sported. If a human child were to come at it, surely the child would win. Though the orbs that circled around its neck were rather strange.

He had been awake for five or ten minutes now, and his mind was quickly sharpening to sounds he'd missed before. A low hum coming from the omnic, washing over him like a cool breeze in the silence of the room. An energy buzzed at his fingertips and toes, melting weariness that had taken seven days to build, slipping off of him now like water from a duck's back.

The omnic was healing him.

"I see you have awoken. I am glad."

The sudden smooth but unmistakably synthetic voice startled him, and instincts created distance between him and the omnic in seconds despite the still lingering lethargy in his body. He fumbled for his dagger, his sword, found them both missing much to his regret. The omnic had taken them, but the shuriken quick to his fingertips could not be stolen so easily.

The thief omnic tilted its head curiously, hands clasping in its lap as it let out a soft hum. "I mean you no harm, friend. I have brought you in from the cold to tend to you, and nothing more."

He didn't trust it for a moment, but before he could growl as much to the omnic, it held out his sword and dagger to him. An offering.

"I am sure you would much prefer these on your person, yes? I did not want you to run me through in your sleep, as you thrashed about like a fish on a line as soon as you had the energy to do so." Its voice was calm, no condescension to be found. It was not like he couldn't handle a frail thing like this, if it came to be necessary.

"...Do not move."

The omnic was obedient at least, nodding slowly and holding still as he swiped the blades from him and quickly sheathed them both, though one hand lingered at the hilt of his sword. Now with all weapons returned, he could learn what he needed.

"What is this place, omnic."

"My name is Tekhartha Zenyatta, and this is the Shambali Monastery."

Even he, in all his single-mindedness, knew of the Shambali Monastery and the monks that once resided in it. Omnics that came to believe they held souls just as humans did, and hoped to spread a new era of peace between man and omnic.

But they were monks, as in plural. This one, Zenyatta, was alone as far as he could tell.

"...Where are the rest of you...?"

If Zenyatta could smile, he would have. The orbs curled gently around him, as if offset by his mood as he rose from the floor, in the literal sense with his feet still tucked neatly beneath him. "My brothers and sisters have left the monastery to spread peace to the masses, and do not plan to return until their successes have become evident."

"Why are you not with them, then?"

"I disagree with my brother Mondatta's methods. I hoped, after the snow had settled a bit, to travel on my own and pursue a different path." A hum came from him that sounded like a laugh, fluttery despite it's artificiality. "That is, till you showed up on my doorstep."

Genji's grip tightened on his katana's hilt, jaw tensing. How could this omnic speak so lightly, alone in this vast building with an armed man before him.

"....How do you know I am not here to kill you?" Many disagreed with the ideals of the Shambali, violently even. To bring together omnics and humans after so long...some would kill to avoid such a future. But Zenyatta chuckled again, a hand over what looked like a mouth but never moved.

"My, if you came to kill me, I must say you've done a rather disappointing job of it so far."

He was infuriatingly calm, slowly floating towards the open door behind him. "It is late, my friend. I advise rest, at least till morning when the skies are a bit kinder." The omnic didn't wait for a reply, giving a low bow of his head before disappearing into the hall. No footsteps followed, only the faintest whir of his internal fans and the soft buzz of energy about him.

Once that had faded, it was silent once again. And in the silence, Genji curled in on himself in one corner of the room, eyes on the doorway as he ordered himself not to sleep, and disobeyed soon after to the howling wind and the soft crackle of the candlelight.

\---

The morning that followed was unbearably bright. Sunlight reflecting off snow and glinting off his metal form, glaring into his eyes as he rouses from sleep quite suddenly. A dreamless night, exhaustion protecting him for once. As he stepped out of the light's path, his eyes went to the window, enhanced eyes discerning the omnic--Zenyatta--out on the courtyard in meditation. Completely exposed and unaware. If Genji were crueler, he could have fit a shuriken between his sparse plating from here.

But he did not, instead climbing out the window and scaling down the wide brick of the building, moving rather quietly till he slipped and landed with a thunk. The monk didn't turn towards him despite the obvious noise, which seemed even more frustrating than an honest comment on his clumsiness.

"How can you live here, all alone. The silence is unbearable."

"Ah, good morning my friend. I am glad to see you have stayed the night and morning as well." He didn't turn, though his head tilted towards Genji as if to invite him closer. "And to answer your question, one learns to talk to himself when conversation is lacking."

The conversation lacked soon after, both of them going silent as Zenyatta began meditating again. Effortless and peaceful as ever.

"What do you want from me, Zenyatta."

"It is not what I want, that matters. I am not the one who strained every joint in travel through wilderness and snow."

Genji growled low, irritation and shame clutching him in tandem as he reached for his dagger. "You know nothing of me, or my troubles. Do not act like you can teach me. And do not act like we are friends."

The hum he received in return was frustratingly smooth. "Then tell me, stranger. Who are you, and what do _you_ want?"

"I am Shimada Genji, second son of the Shimada clan. And... I..."

As his voice trailed off, Zenyatta finally turned to face him. Hands in his lap, though one turned up as if to offer to him. His expression could not change, would not change, but Genji felt a soft smile from him.

"...I want to understand...myself, and what I am. How this..." he gestured over himself, hand gripping over the glow between his chest plates, "...can exist, and still call itself... m-myself...Genji..." His voice faltered as he heard it aloud, the truth spilling from him like blood from an open wound. It stung like a wound as well, gaping and aching till a warm and smooth hand settled on his shoulder.

Zenyatta nodded gently and squeezed the shoulder beneath his hand, close enough to see the eyes beneath the glow of a green visor. They shone dark, but truthful.

"We have much work to do then, Genji. Let us begin."


End file.
